


Helpless

by Mighty_Ant



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Launchpad is a hero too prove me wrong, M/M, Spoilers for The Last Adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 15:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30091074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mighty_Ant/pseuds/Mighty_Ant
Summary: Drake is used to the odds being stacked against him.Him. Not anyone else. And certainly not Launchpad.
Relationships: Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack
Comments: 16
Kudos: 162





	Helpless

Drake is used to the odds being against him. 

As a child, his father had been so much larger than him. He was runty throughout his teens, and his bullies were heavy handed. Gigs came and went, callbacks few and far in between. The stunt work he scrabbled to take didn’t pay enough to move out of the Tenderloin, and every other week a punk with a knife tried to mug him outside his apartment. 

He was a lone man against Jim Starling and his rage and his ray gun, against three massive Moonlanders with fists like stone, against Taurus Bulba and his hand around his throat. 

But when he faced off against the Fearsome Four, childhood fantasy turned dangerously real, he  _ wasn’t  _ alone, perhaps for the first time. 

Drake was unaccustomed to the feeling of an ally at his back, leaning into each other for reassurance, comfort. It was as if Launchpad had blinked into existence at his side, decking Megavolt before he could fire a shot, pulling Drake to his feet, squeezing his shoulder, branding Drake with the physical evidence of his sheer presence and care. 

Gosalyn was the wrench in the works, blindsiding him with her drive, her loneliness. In battle she was a whirlwind, her crossbow aim impeccable, but Drake constantly sought her out, needing to verify her safety with his own eyes. 

So yes, while he’s come to cherish the support of his newfound team, Drake is far more used to the odds being stacked against him. 

_ Him _ . Not anyone else. And certainly not  _ Launchpad _ . 

Drake is the one who takes the risks, who gets thrown into walls and beaten down and burnt.  _ He’s  _ supposed to be trapped in the middle of a mob of supervillains, because it’s his job to take the hardest hits. 

Not Launchpad, the sun to his earth, blinding Drake with his honesty, his faith and his goodness. Who need only frown for Drake to realize his ego, his impulsiveness, has led him astray. Launchpad, with the perpetual hat hair he allows Gosalyn to braid and decorate with glittery clips. Who’s smiles at Drake have turned shy, their hand holding furtive, as something terrifying and new blossoms out of their partnership. 

Launchpad, who is surrounded on all sides, the danger unrelenting, and Drake is  _ trapped _ , useless, behind unbreakable glass. He watches Launchpad fall again and again on the end of a Beagles’ fist, a beam of concentrated, bruising magic, avoiding Steelbeak’s namesake only for a blow to the stomach to render him to his knees. His heart pounds in his throat, painful and hard, with every blow that lands, and his hands tremble, pressed against the glass as if to will the barrier away through sheer force of will. 

Drake watches Launchpad fall in a way he never even thought to fear, so certain that he would  _ never  _ leave Launchpad to face any threat alone, as he had always been forced to. He pounds on the glass, feels the burn and radiating pain of bruised flesh on the sides of his fists, and he despairs. 

Fenton is a mess of nerves at his side but he shouts almost just as fiercely, useless but heartfelt encouragement through the glass. Drake is grateful even as he despises himself for getting captured in the first place. 

“Get back up,” he pleads, as Launchpad falls to the ground again in a cloud of dust and dirt, his bangs hanging lank, his cheek already discolored and swelling. He thinks of his strength in the face of Launchpad’s unwavering faith, and Drake tries so, so hard, he tries with all of his limited might, to provide the same for him.

“Get back up,” he says again, his throat tightening, on the verge of betraying him, as Launchpad hangs his head, as his broad shoulders rise and fall with pained, heaving breaths. 

Launchpad is alone and Drake is painfully conscious of the fact that  _ he  _ is to blame. If he’d been quicker, smarter, better, Launchpad would have more than desperate reassurances on his side. Whatsmore, Drake fears that his words won’t be enough; that  _ he  _ isn’t strong enough to guide Launchpad through, as Launchpad has always done for him. 

Launchpad falls, but this time he doesn’t push himself back onto his feet. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, defeated in a way Drake’s never heard before today. “I’m not a hero.” Launchpad’s voice is only slightly muffled through the glass but Drake almost doesn’t believe it. He’s struck dumb, certain he’s misheard. 

Launchpad, not a hero? 

Launchpad, who without cape or cowl, faced down Jim and saw good in him, all the way to the end. Who can’t help but  _ help _ , anyone and everyone, in any way he can. He handed Drake his hat amid smoke and smoldering wreckage and believed in him to the point that Drake started believing in himself. Forget  _ hero _ , Launchpad is a better man than he could ever hope to be. 

In Drake’s ongoing silence, Fenton fills the void. 

Fenton, who’s human and fallible and terrified for his girlfriend’s safety, who Drake doesn’t want to believe is the mechanical marvel he’s professed to despise, gets on his knees to try and meet Launchpad’s eye. 

“You inspired  _ me  _ to be a hero,” Fenton says fiercely, and Drake wonders at this familiar tale. He’s briefly in awe of Launchpad, this silent partner, a creator of superheroes through faith alone. 

Launchpad lifts his head, teeth gritted, expression lost, and Drake is buoyed by newfound purpose.  _ “And me,”  _ he says, locking eyes through the glass for the first time. A million and one utterances sit unspoken on the back of his tongue, promises, declarations and fears, but Launchpad smiles like he’s hearing all of them. He always did have the uncanny ability to know what Drake was thinking. 

Around them, the dozens of cells illuminate to reveal the allies within, all of them helped by Launchpad, inspired by Launchpad, not so differently from Drake himself. Pride burns at the back of his eyelids, swelling in his chest like a balloon, as Launchpad spins in a circle, receiving support from all sides. 

“You have the heart of a hero,” Drake says, but realizes at once that isn’t the full truth. He watches in thunderstruck awe as the Gizmosuit comes to life around Launchpad, locking around his arms and barrel chest with a sense of devastating rightness. He watches Launchpad rise, a hero in full. 

With the aid of the suit and his bolstered confidence, the battle ends quickly. In destroying Steelbeak’s gun, the villains held under its thrall are left in a daze, and in no hurry to get back in the fight. An errant missile unlocks the cell neighboring Drake’s and he watches with breathless relief as Gosalyn runs out, no worse for wear, alongside the Sabrewing girls and what was formerly a headless manhorse. 

“Holy crap, Launchpad!” she crows, coming to a stop at his wheel. For all her excitement, she seems daunted by the armor, and doesn’t leap into Launchpad’s arms as she might normally do. “You look  _ sick _ !” 

“Language!” Drake barks out of habit, too stunned to say more. 

Launchpad is beaming, the helmet’s visor flipped up to reveal the full breadth of his astonishment. “You think so?” he says, tapping his fingers together in a familiar nervous gesture that looks out of place in the hulking armor. 

“I know so,” Gosalyn confirms, confident as any twelve-year-old infiltrating an evil stronghold has a right to be. But her eyes are suspiciously shiny and she drops her crossbow before jumping forward, patently expecting Launchpad to catch her. 

He doesn’t disappoint.

Launchpad is laughing as he brings her in close, incredible gentle despite the suit’s daunting strength. He spins in place with the momentum of catching Gosalyn, only to lose his balance and fall flat on his back with a crash, Gosalyn still laughing from the cradle of his arms. 

Boyd and Manny manage to unlock all of the cells, and Drake bolts out like a shot. 

“Gosalyn!” he cries, knowing she’s safe,  _ seeing  _ she’s safe, but needing the reassurance of her in his arms. 

“Da-Darkwing!” she says, smiling, sitting up on Launchpad’s chest. Drake sweeps her into a hug and releases a deep shuddering breath, replacing the stale breathless of fear with the scent of Gos’ shampoo, dirt and dust, feeling the solid weight of her as she grabs fistfuls of his cape and buries her face against his chest. 

She allows the hug to go on for almost a minute, a new record, before she begins to squirm in his arms. Drake puts her down grudgingly, cupping her cheeks and patting her arms in search of injury. “Are you alright? Does anything hurt?” 

Gosalyn rolls her eyes like  _ he’s  _ the ridiculous one, warming him with its familiarity. “Just my pride,” she mutters, bending to pick up her crossbow. “Lena’s a wizard and she’s like,  _ right there.” _

Beside them, Launchpad rises back to the full, impressive height the Gizmosuit provides, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. Drake is struck by the sight of him, victorious and whole, his smile shy and the side of his face welting with bruises, and he knows that what they have between them is love. 

“Now as for  _ you!” _ Drake rounds on Launchpad, to his wide-eyed alarm. He reaches up, tugging on the suit’s collar, and Launchpad leans forward without resistance, trusting Drake in everything without question, including this. Drake pushes himself onto his toes and he’s just tall enough to kiss him. 

Launchpad lets out a sound of a surprise, jolting slightly if to jump out of the suit altogether. But then he quiets, and one large, gloved hand comes to rest hesitantly on Drake’s waist. 

It’s their first kiss. 

Drake tries to put every ounce of love, terror and blessed relief into it. He lets go of the suit’s collar to cradle Launchpad’s face, careful with his bruises, but needing to feel the warm, living whole of him under his hands, so disparate from the armor’s cold, unyielding metal. 

At their feet, Gosalyn groans in exaggerated disgust which only makes Drake chuckle as he breaks the kiss, but does not pull away. Launchpad’s eyes are wide and wondering and his smile curves against Drake’s palms. 

“You  _ are  _ a hero, LP,” he murmurs in the space between them. Drake watches Launchpad’s expression crack open and feels his own heart follow suit. “You’re  _ my  _ hero.” 

Launchpad’s throat clicks as he swallows and the harsh white light of the cells surrounding them catches on the glimmer of tears in his eyes. “I, uh...a-are you sure?” he asks quietly, as vulnerable as Drake has ever seen him.

How he had missed the signs of these lurking insecurities, Drake doesn’t know. But he’ll feel properly guilty about that later. His mission, right alongside being there for Gosalyn in every way he can, in every way she’ll allow, is ensuring that Launchpad never doubts his importance ever again. 

“LP, buddy, I’m not sure if you noticed, but you just saved us all,” Drake points out wryly. 

Launchpad winces, lifting one hand to lay flat against the armor chest piece. “But the suit…”

Leaving one hand to cradle his cheek, Drake pokes him in the chest. “It’s still you in there, isn’t it? Besides, I seem to remember a distinct lack of armor in a burning movie studio, a mad scientist’s lab, and on patrol with me every night .” 

“I...yeah,” Launchpad says, with hesitant confidence. “When you put it like that, I guess you’re right.” 

“Of course I’m right,” Drake begins to say. Only, he trails off as Launchpad gently wraps his hand around the one Drake still has tracing the edge of his jaw. 

“DW, am I really...I’m your…”

Drake tugs Launchpad that much closer. Urgency lingers at the back of his mind, the knowledge that this adventure is far from over, but he puts it aside for just one moment longer. 

“My hero,” Drake repeats. He sees the flash of Launchpad’s smile before he’s swept into their second kiss. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic post-finale, and I can't put into words how much I'm going to miss this show. I'm going to continue writing fic, of course, exploring the Mallard-McQuack family, Scrooge and Webby, Donald and Daisy, and so, so many more. Thank you all for joining me on this adventure, and many more to come <3


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